


The Gay Dance Club of Terror

by lurrel



Category: Scream (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurrel/pseuds/lurrel
Summary: Audrey wants to help get Noah out of his writer's block rut, and maybe out of his dating rut too. Brooke thinks a club might do it.





	The Gay Dance Club of Terror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Purpleyin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/gifts).



“I could do this all day,” Audrey said, staring down at Noah with a smirk. Her hair was shaggier than usual and honestly, it made her seem slightly more dangerous than usual. 

Noah sighed from the gym floor and closed his eyes. He was getting sick of looking at Audrey’s upside- down face, and was a little bruised up from being laid out onto thea mat six times in a row. It was badass when she did it to other guys; it was less fun getting his own ass whooped.

“I can’t believe I signed up for extra gym class during summer vacation. Willingly!”

Audrey held out a hand and helped pull him back to his feet. “Look, if you want to be defenseless the next time you’re attacked, be my guest.”

“I don’t know, how many more psychos do you think are hidden in a fifty mile radius? I know Criminal Minds makes it seem like there’s a serial killer around every corner but statistically there’s probably not more than 2,000 of them in the USA and they can’t all be within driving distance of Lakewood.” Noah takes a gulp of water from his water bottle. “I guess I don’t know what waits out in the wilds of Massachusetts.”

“Does not-Alex-Whitman count as a serial killer?”

“Technically no, since the definition of serial killer requires at least three murders -- which he definitely accomplished -- but those kills are supposed to be spread out over the course of at least a month. I’d say he qualifies as more of a spree killer.”

“The point is,” Audrey saidsays, nabbing his water bottle and taking a swig, “there are more dangers out there than just serial killers.”

“Believe me, I’m not raring to run into another spree killer either. I’m just not sure how the universe could justify making that happen.”

“Well, karmically feasible or no, you won’t have me around to save your ass at MIT this fall.”

“What if I just hire a bodyguard when Stavo and I strike it rich?”

Audrey snorted. “Well, just remember me when you’re auditioning them. I can’t work at movie theatres forever.”

“Let’s get out of here, it gives me the heebie-jeebies to be at the high school when school’s out. Did you know Brooke and Jake used to break in here to use the pool?”

Audrey pulled a face and grabbeds her bag. “Yeah, thanks, I did not need to know that.”

“Look, I’m gonna head home and hit the shower, but maybe we can meet up after dinner?”

“Sounds good, I promised the fam I’d ‘spend some quality time’ with them before abandoning them for college, but I’m free after that.”

-

There were a lot of weird things about surviving three different murder sprees, but one of the most unsettling was how it made his parents treat him like a glass figurine. Emma sometimes seemed like she was made of steel now, after shoving Tom Martin off a balcony to his doom and getting good at jiu jitsu. And Audrey was ready to take on the world, which was the reason he was making her teach him some moves. 

He wished, sometimes, that his trauma also manifested itself as simmering rage - if nothing else it seemed like it'd be useful in moving past writer's block. Motivating, even. 

But after another awkward dinner where he chatted about literally nothing of substance with his parents, Noah yet again found himself in his room, staring at an empty GDoc and feeling an increasing amount of despair that he’d never have another good idea again.

Despite the fact that their Anna Hobson book’s sales probably had more to do with the Shallow Grove Island murder spree that preceded it than their raw talent, he was proud of it. But it wasn’t like he was swimming in bodyguard money, and writing it had felt less like the catharsis of their first book and more like a manic episode, pouring out in between jittery nights of staring at a white screen. Even Audrey had questioned his caffeine intake, and in retrospect he probably should have focused more on his grades than pushing out another script. But productive Noah was at least not a moping Noah, everyone had figured.

And they’d done it, and it went to print almost as soon as they finished copyediting it, and every review felt like more pressure to become some kind of Robert Kirkman of true crime comics, churning out as many books as possible in the shortest amount of time. Combined with how horrible it was to interact with their agent (which was reasonable, as their old agent was dead), Noah was stressed and his latest script was a whole lot of nada.

Well, he had a whole lot of research. Noah had already assembled and taken down two other murderboards, and he had carefully curated folders of essays, crime reports, court documents, and even a few promising wikipedia pages.

He was starting to think maybe it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, fixating on murderers. Even the podcast was on hiatus -- he just didn’t know what to say.

Noah hit call on Skype and Stavo’s face popped up.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking mildly more interested than normal.

“Nothing bad. Just. What happens if I can’t write anything good ever again?” All the words came out in a rush, getting right to heart of the matter and sounding whiny at the same time. Great. He loved spilling his neuroses to his creative partner.

“I think we’re fine. We’re ahead of schedule, even, since you’re still doing publicity for the first book.”

“Yeah, on podcasts,” Noah said with a hypocritical scoff. “I haven’t even figured out what the next murder we’re gonna do is!”

“Man, phrasing. You need to relax, go out --”

“Aren’t you worried? New York City isn’t cheap!” Noah snapped. “And I know I could have gotten more scholarships but I probably won’t get them for at least another year, and--”

“--get laid. You definitely could use a hookup.”

“That’s the not the worst idea you’ve ever had, Stavo,” said Audrey from the doorway, startling him enough to make Stavo laugh.

“Warn a guy!” 

“Hey, I texted,” she said, clambering onto his bed. “You were just wrapped up with your phone date.”

“Tell Noah he needs to chill out,” Stavo said from his laptop speaker.

“Better yet,” Brooke said, moving into the picture, “tell Noah we’re going out.”

“What? I need to get started on our next script, at least get some resear--”

“I can see you’re making a lot of progress,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But fine. Tomorrow night.”

“Friday night,” Audrey said, “I’m working tomorrow.”

“So it’s settled,” Stavo said. “I’ll leave you to it!” 

The Skype call ended and Noah blinked at his laptop. “Doesn’t anyone else care that I haven’t been able to write a single interesting thing since the Anna Hobson script?”

“Hey, it’s been what, a couple months? Relax.”

“Relax? You’re the one giving me- giving me anti-serial killer fighting lessons!”

“Okay okay okay,” Audrey said, moving his laptop to the nightstand. “Maybe just don’t freak out at your friends who are worried about you?”

Noah huffed, and asked, “Where the hell are we going on Friday, anyway?” 

“Well, there’s only one club that’ll let us in with your shitty fake ID here in Lakewood, so I guess we’re going to Lulu’s.”

“Ugh, no, the last time I went there I couldn’t use the bathroom because half the football team was puking in there.”

“Oh, right, Jell-O shots night. That was a pretty bad time.”

“Isn’t there anywhere else? Maybe we could just have a quiet evening at Starbucks? A house party at Brooke’s place?”

“C’mon, you’re going to have to practice acting like a normal person soon enough, and that probably means leaving the house.”

“The whole point of going to MIT is that everyone there is socially awkward! It’s a perk!”

“I’m pretty sure nerds still like to go out.” She paused. “Please?”

And who was Noah to resist those puppy dog eyes? “Fine. But _not_ Lulu’s.”

Audrey leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Well...it depends on how seriously you want to take Stavo’s advice.”

“To get laid? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but these days staying alive is way more of a priority.”

“Maybe it’s time to re-prioritize. We’re alive! And all your hobbies can’t involve a murderboard and crime scene photos.”

“The murderboard is more of a lifestyle than a hobby at this point.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Audrey said, putting a hand on his knee, “there’s always the gay club.”

Noah snorted. “Lakewood doesn’t have a gay club.”

“Ah, but Riverview does!” Audrey grinned at him.

“How does Riverview have a gay bar and we don’t? They don’t even have a single murder house.”

“This doesn’t sound like an objection, my man.”

“I can go to a gay club without relinquishing my heterosexual card, Audrey.”

There was something about the way Audrey stared that could make Noah feel extremely _seen_ but also slightly judged, and she was doing it right then, like she already knew. Which, she probably did, because it wasn’t like he hadn’t picked up on her inclinations either. It was probably like a Spidey-sense, a gaydar but less of a joke.

Okay, they were best friends, he could do this. Radical honesty, like his therapist said. Noah took a deep breath.

“Fine. Maybe you’re not the only bi-curious one in this friendship.”

Audrey smiled, one of the real ones she normally kept for Emma, and Noah relaxed, too. He wasn’t trying to keep his occasional, passing attraction to guys a _secret_ , necessarily, but their junior year felt like it had enough going on already, and then senior year didn’t slow down -- first the island, then there was the book, and college applications, and by then it seemed like it was too unimportant, too late. 

It felt good to open up about something that wasn’t a crime scene.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Audrey slapped his leg, then scrambled over for a full on hug, and that was nice, actually, it was also nice to have some physical contact that didn’t involve any physical violence.

He only took a second to hug back.

She pulled back, sitting closer but not in his space. “So, the gay bar - it’s called Don’s Place! We’ll take you out and send you home with somebody handsome, or at least join you in ogling.”

Noah sighed. “Look, that’s not why dating fell off my to-do list. It’s -- I don’t think changing up the gender of who I’m dating is --”

“Who said anything about dating? I’m pretty sure that’s not what Stavo said, and it’s definitely not what he meant.” 

“Okay look,” he said, and her expression finally got serious again. “I’ve dated two whole girls in my short life and they’re both dead. And maybe, maybe Riley wasn’t my fault--” He held up his hand when Audrey opened her mouth. “But Zoë? She wouldn’t even have been involved if she hadn’t dated me. Like, I’m relieved to get it off my chest but gender isn’t what’s keeping me in my dating rut -- I don’t want to be responsible for a guy’s inevitable death either!”

“Look, Noah,” she said, and then she stopped and grabbed his hand and squeezed. “It’s messed up that you even think to worry about that, and I get it.”

Noah closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall behind his bed. “It’s hard to imagine ever wanting to date again. My plan for college was to just be like Isaac Newton and pour all my energies into science.”

“I don’t know that dying a virgin is the best coping mechanism either.”

“Okay, well at least not after way more therapy.”

Audrey nodded. “Yeah, I hear that. I was hoping that Gina…” She trailed off and looked away, and Noah was the one to squeeze her hand this time. While Gina was now his sworn enemy due to the fact that she had dumped Audrey, that didn’t mean he could really blame her. They were magnets for trauma, and while he got some pretty wild fanmail for The Morgue, surviving multiple murder sprees did not an easy partner make. He was pretty sure that’s why he and Audrey hadn’t ever tried anything once she was single again -- together they had more baggage than an entire airport.

“I guess I can spare one night of productivity to go out,” he conceded.

“To the a gay bar?”

“I’ll go to the gay bar, yes Audrey. I’ll even tell the rest of the gang why I want to be there, too.”

Audrey grinned and high-fived him. “Alright, big moves! I bet Brooke will have some wardrobe suggestions.”

Noah laughed. “Look, it’s my right as a bi-curious virgin to dress as badly as I want. That’s equal rights.”

-

Brooke didn’t even blink at the change in venue; she just nodded like she went to gay bars all the time andthis wasn’t a pained way for him to express some latent queer feelings, or even a coping mechanism to keep himself from spending the summer in an escalating anxiety spiral.

What didn’t help was her text message that said, “You know it’s a theme night tonight right?”

“Oh shit, it’s a theme night,” Audrey said, looking at her phone. “Do you still want to go? Emma says she’s out.”

“What’s the theme?”

“Heaven and hell. So slutty angels and demons.”

“Not the most summery, or the spookiest, but it's got a high potential for masks. How do you feel about it?”

Audrey quirked an eyebrow as she looked at him. “I don’t want to let you back out now.”

“And Stavo and Brooke are game?”

“Like Brooke would miss an opportunity for a cute little devil outfit.”

“I’m in. Let’s find some costumes.”

-

Noah managed to scrounge up some clay satyr horns from the Renaissance Festival, along with short-sleeved red button up, while Audrey traded in her black eyeliner for some white eye makeup and glitter on top of that, like a sparkling mask. 

“I guess I’ll just be an angel without wings,” she said on their way over. 

“I thought you’d go evil,” Noah said when he saw Brooke in the club’s parking lot. She, of course, had on a pair of white feathery wings and a little white dress, contrasting with Stavo’s black leather domino mask and red tank top.

“Nice mask,” Noah said, and Stavo gave him a return nod of recognition. 

“He got it at the Renaissance Festival, can you believe that?” Brooke asked, and Audrey laughed.

“Ren Fests are cool,” Noah said defensively.

“Just because I like Chris Evans does not mean I think all nerd shit is cool,” she said, flipping her hair as she handed an ID over and stepped into the bar.

The bouncer didn’t even question Noah’s fake ID, just winked at him as he went inside.

Once they loaded up at the bar, on Brooke’s tab, it was time to scope out the scene. He didn’t blame Emma for skipping this little adventure -- the inside of the bar was loud, the lights dim, and he hated it while secretly feeling extremely cool for even being there, drinking a real mixed drink.

“Everyone here is a lot prettier than in a regular bar,” Brooke said, getting her a sidelong look from Stavo.

“I’m pretty,” he said, and she laughed. 

“You’re _rugged_ , sweetie. Don’t worry, pretty boys aren’t my type,” she said with a smirk. “What do you think, Noah?”

“Well, it’s loud, and the last time I was at a party with this much noise and stuff there was a murder, so this is already going better.”

“The night is still young, my friend,” said Audrey, who was already scratching at the glitter on her face. 

Brooke raised her eyebrows. “I thought you came here to have fun and let loose. You know, the opposite of worrying about murder?”

“I’m going to try my best.” Noah lifted his glass and drank half of it.

“You can’t spend all your time working and worrying, man,” Stavo said, handing him a new cocktail almost as soon as he finished swallowing the first. “It’s not good for your overworked brain.”

“It’s just that tuition is really expensive, and have you seen how much college loan debt the average person our age ends up with?”

“And how many best selling books have you published before the age of twenty-one?” Audrey added. 

“But what if I never write another one again?” The alcohol was just not hitting fast enough. 

“Hey, less talky, more dancing,” Brooke said, which was, of course, easy for her to say. They may have survived the same killers, but he and Brooke lived on opposite ends of the universe in terms of how college was going to get paid. That also meant she'd spent the first three weeks of summer at a therapeutic yoga retreat, and brought Stavo with her. 

She led Stavo out into the dance floor, throwing Noah one last smirk over her shoulder as the crowd absorbed them.

Audrey bumped shoulders with him, sipping at her beer. “She’s not wrong, everyone here is really pretty. Except some of those girls by the other bar - they're exceedingly handsome.”

“Yeah, well, I'm feeling _exceedingly_ out of my league here.” Everyone seemed older and way more put together than he felt, even amid some extremely tacky hellfire decorations stuck up on the walls. The whole club was really just a warehouse two bars on opposite walls, and booths running along the other two walls, a crush of dancing in the middle.

She eyed him. “I mean, you’re not trying to be pretty right now are you? Because if that’s what you were going for, I can lend you some eyeliner.” Audrey then smeared some glitter under one of his eyes. Camouflage was a good survival tactic, he reminded himself.

“I’m _trying_ to be normal. Just a normal guy sneaking into a gay club with his normal friends in normal costumes.”

“Noah, you have never fit the definition of normal in your life.”

“I know, that’s why we work so well together,” he quipped automatically. “But really, I’m trying for more of a sense of normalcy, or at least working towards not expecting there to be a killer in every mildly spooky place I end up.”

“I don’t know if dance floor lighting qualifies as spooky.”

“It’s all shadows and red, Audrey, where’s the heaven side?”

A deep voice to his left said, “The angels come down to hell to party, not vice versa. You should know, you make a cute little demon.”

Noah almost, almost spilled his drink. “Oh, uh. Thanks?”

“Can I get you another one?” The voice belonged to someone tall, with a strong nose and good shoulders and a red leather domino mask similar to Stavo’s, except his curved into black horns. 

Noah definitely didn’t want a drink because he didn’t want the guy to think Noah was looking for anything, though the guy _was_ good to look _at_. But he just stood there, frozen and silent. 

“We’re just getting a feel for the scene tonight,” said Audrey, stepping in with a grin that managed to still be menacing even with the glitter. “Maybe some other time.”

The guy’s smile slid off his face into a pout. “If you’re here to cockblock him, I’ll find someone else to corrupt.”

“Yeah, good.” 

Audrey was a good friend, Noah thought, but maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed to relax. She finished her beer in one long gulp.

“Let’s dance,” she said, and grabbed his wrist. Into the writhing mass they went.

-

“This wasn’t all a plan to get _you_ laid tonight, was it?” Noah shouts at her several songs in, moving relatively rhythmically. They'd ended up dancing near a group of women, and one in particular kept throwing Audrey looong looks. 

“That’d just be a bonus!” she yelled back, laughing. 

“Stavo’s gonna be disappointed in me, dragged out dancing for me to get spooked by the first guy who wants to buy me a drink.”

“Hey, we’re having a pretty good time anyway, right? You’re getting to embrace your secret EDM obsession, the guys are cute, and there’s booze.”

“I’m definitely drunk, yeah.” The eye candy was good, he’d admit, but the man in the mask was unsettling. His friends’ badgering was persuasive but he hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time Audrey encouraged someone to have a fling -- they’d ended up trapped in a murder house, running from said fling.

Brooke’s head suddenly emerged from the crowd, Stavo in tow. “Did you just get a weird text?”

Noah pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I got nothing.”

“I just got this text!” She shoved her phone screen into Noah’s face.

It read MAKE NEW FRIENDS, number blocked and unknown, and Noah felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

His phone buzzed, the same text popping up.

Audrey threw up her hands. “Oh come _on_.”

“Cops or no cops?” Stavo asked, his own phone in his hand.

“Cops?” Noah said, and then the lights in the club went out.

Don’s Place was instantly engulfed in darkness, only broken up by cellphone screens.

Brooke swore loudly. Noah reached out until he found Audrey’s hand. Her answering squeeze was hard enough to hurt -- extremely reassuring. 

“There’s a back door, right?” asked Brooke.

“These people are gonna freak at any moment,” Audrey said. The roar of the crowd was growing exponentially louder. 

Suddenly, a loud, authoritative voice cut above above the din. “Alright everybody, what we are not about to do here is panic.”

It was the bouncer, holding an extremely bright, heavy duty camping flashlight. 

“We’re opening the doors up here and y’all are going to walk out slowly and calmly! Do not push! Do not shove! And no running.”

Amazingly, everyone managed to follow instructions.

-

They were some of the last people out, snooping around the club with cell phone flashlights, but eventually they too filed out into the parking lot, where they shuffled off to a corner in which the bouncer and bartender were huddled, smoking.

“You’re pretty good at your job,” Noah told the bouncer. “You probably saved some lives today.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, nodding in acknowledgement. “You guys involved in anything weird again?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Audrey, aggressive with adrenaline.

“Hey, just, I read comics, and y’all are like local celebrities around here. Just wondering what’s up.”

“Well...we’re not sure yet. Did you two notice anything unusual tonight?”

The guy squinted at him. “You looked stressed as hell, you want a hit of this?”

“Oh god yes,” Noah said, taking the joint.

Brooke laughed. “Taking drugs from strangers?”

“You bet I am,” Noah said, right before coughing his lungs out.

“Keep it, you kids look like you need to relax.”

“That’s definitely true,” Audrey said, “but we really do want to know if you noticed anything weird.”

“Nothing I can think of. How about you, Mercedes?”

The bartender shook her head, making her angel wings bounce. “Nothing weirder than usual. Hard to tell because of all the masks, though.”

“Chill house party at Brooke’s?” Noah wheezed, passing the joint.

“I’ll call the Uber once we finish this,” Brooke said. “The smell sticks to the furniture.”

-

The shop was the perfect amount of busy - enough people that Noah wasn't just by himself, but not so many people that he had to do too much. 

“Hey Noah!” 

It was Steve, the the shy secretary of George Washington's Gay-Straight Alliance. He was the same year as the rest of them, with a sloped nose and the bad posture that came from years of hunching over a laptop, hiding his height. They’d been close in middle school, but Steve had resented Audrey, and while he wasn’t the last person to do so their friendship never really recovered. He’d turned out pretty decent, though, with great hair.

Noah thought, ‘Yeah, but Tim, his boyfriend, is way cuter,’ and well well well, hello gay subconscious thoughts.

“What's up Steve? Just grabbing your pull-list or are you looking for something in particular?”

“Just the comics, thanks,” he said, waiting till Noah returned to drop a question.“Did you, uh, hear about what happened at Don’s Place this weekend?”

That caught Noah by surprise. Steve was not the bar-going type -- he wasn’t even really much for parties, more of a lurker. He was good once you got him going, though it took a lot of talking about superhero movies. 

“Funny story, I was actually there that night.” Noah started to scan the comics issue by issue, ringing them up. 

“Oh, wow, really? I always thought you were going to GSA meetings for Audrey,” he said, eyes lighting up.

“I mean, I was mostly there for her at the time.”

“Plus, you dated Zoë, even. I never would have guessed you were gay!” Steve was leaning on the counter.

“Hey now, a man can be bisexual in the year 2016.”

Steve laughed. “Of course, of course. What do you think the texts meant?”

Noah shrugged. He had a hypothesis, of course, had started a small corkboard, but there wasn’t much to go on. “No clue. Someone’s worried about their social status?”

“I guess that doesn’t really concern you much anymore.” Steve gave him a look. 

He then handed over his credit card. “Are you gonna be there next weekend? They're having a do-over because the electrical short, then the cops showing up, kind of killed the night.”

“So you were there too?”

Steve shifted on his feet, looking away. “Nah. But, I might be there this weekend?”

Noah handed him his bag. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he said with a smile.

-

Audrey was the one who got the Facebook invite from Don’s Place, later that day. The details said this re-do was for a more exclusive clientele -- only ones deemed cool enough to get the password.

“This is weird,” she said, handing over her phone.

“I think you mean this is extremely cool. It’s gonna be like a speakeasy.” He handed it back.

“I really think Don’s Place is waaay too gross to be that cool.”

Noah went ahead and flipped the ‘Open’ sign on the door to ‘Closed,’ joining Audrey in flopping onto the couch in the shop.

“Steve from GSA was here earlier telling me about it.”

“Steve? You know Tim Patel just dumped him, right?”

“No way, they were together for like, two years, that's like forever.”

“I know,” said Audrey, frowning at her phone screen. “Steve couldn’t commit to long distance, I guess. This invite says we’ll have to wait till the day-of to find out the password.”

“Should we get there early?” 

“Depends. Do you think this is a trap?”

Noah shrugged. “To be honest, I feel kind of preoccupied with other stuff, but that last thing felt like a prank. I mean, everyone at the bar got the same text, right?”

“Yeah. Emma’s worried about us but she didn’t get a text, which makes me think we’re not being targeted.”

“Right, it’s not like the rest of us have our own stalkers.”

They settled back into the couch.

Noah sighed. “I'm gonna miss this place when I'm in Boston.”

“Yeah, me too. Where else can I see any horror movie put to celluloid while surrounded by valuable nerd collectables?”

“Is that all I am too you, a valuable nerd collectable?”

“Hey, I also think of you as a pretty good pillow,” she said, leaning into his side. “I'm definitely gonna miss this.” 

“Me too. I mean, you _could_ have picked NYU,” he said, a familiar refrain. 

“Hey, someone has to stay on the West Coast to take care of Emma. You,” she said, settling under his arm, “I know you can take care of yourself. After a few more self-defense lessons.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“It’s because I know I’m a great teacher. Now, what are we watching?”

-

That Saturday, they started the night at Brooke’s house, drinking fancy spritzers while Brooke did Audrey’s eye shadow.

Stavo handed Noah a glass. “I hung out with the bouncer from the other night. Turns out he's a pretty cool guy.”

“I'm just happy you're making friends,” Brooke said, picking out the right makeup brush from a collection on the coffee table.

“I thought he might have some cool stories, like what's the most gruesome fight he’s had to break up.”

Brooke made a face. “Boys are disgusting.”

“i gotta get those creative juices flowing, baby,” he said with a grin.

“Looking for new stuff to draw already?” Noah asked, staring at the glass in his hand. “I mean, I know I haven’t come up with a new idea but--”

“C'mon man, it's not like that.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I'm allowed to draw whatever I want, you're my partner, not my boss. I can have other creative outlets.”

Noah bit his lip and shrugged. “Yeah, of course, sorry. I’m just bugging about writer’s block right now.”

“Please tell him it’s okay to take a break after two best-selling graphic novels?” Audrey asked. 

Stavo gave a pretty good impression of the shrug emoji, sardonic smile on his face.

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Noah sighed. “I get it you guys.”

“Anyway,” Audrey said, “eyes on the prize. Have you guys gotten any other text messages?”

“Nothing,” Stavo said.

“Me neither. And Emma says her phone’s been clear, too.”

“She’s sitting this one out too, huh?” Noah asked. “It makes sense that she’s still not too keen on masks.”

Brooke did something complicated with an eyeliner brush pen and then stepped back to admire her work. Audrey had some ice-blue eyeliner, thick around her dark eyes, with a gradient shadow that went from blue to white as it feathered out. Her cheekbones looked sharp, with a gold contour. 

“Your face looks incredible,” Noah said without thinking.

Brooke grinned at him. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.”

-

The bouncer, who Noah now knew as Malik, waved them through when they showed up as a group, giving Stavo an elaborate fist bump Noah couldn't begin to parse.

“Let’s grab a booth this time,” Brooke said, handing Noah her credit card. “Get us some drinks.”

Audrey leaned up against the bar as he ordered a pitcher of beer.

“You're back, complete with horns,” said a familiar voice from his side. Tall, nice nose, domino mask with horns -- same guy. “More glitter tonight, though.”

“Oh, uh. Hey.” Noah took a second to give him a once over. He felt less flighty this time.

Audrey leaned forward and gave a little wave. “What’s up?”

“You brought friends,” the guy said with a frown.

“Yeah, hanging out is kind of what you do with them.” Noah swallowed. “But maybe I can snag a dance later?” It came out in kind of a rush.

The guy smiled and nodded, sliding back out to the dancefloor.

“Nice job, bicurious!” Audrey said. “But, you know there’s no pressure, right?”

“Yeah, no, definitely, just thought I’d try it out--” Noah started, and then the lights flipped out.

“Goddammit, we were having a moment!” Audrey shouted, her voice joining the rest of the screams.

When the lights flipped on again, there was Tim Patel, dangling from the ceiling from a complicated harness of rope around his torso, struggling.

“You got your knife?” Noah asked and Audrey nodded soberly, her mouth a determined line. 

“It's been too quiet in Lakewood for too long,” said a voice -- or was it actually The Voice? -- over the intercom, the mocking lilt familiar.

“Okay, maybe us returning to the scene of the creeps was a classic hubristic error,” Noah said, “and we could have predicted this.”

“Even The Morgue has run out of content!” the Voice declared, “But I'm here to change all that!”

“Oh my god, it's just on hiatus!” Noah yelled. 

“I told you you shouldn't have hijacked that podcast!” snapped Audrey.

“I didn't cause this to happen by podcasting!” Noah shot back. 

“I'm putting Lakewood back on the map!” the mystery man said, and a flash of disco lights popped before the club went dark again.

The screaming started in earnest. 

“This is homophobia,” Audrey said, grabbing Noah’s hand and squeezing. 

Brooke and Stavo were easy to spot, their heavy duty police-issue flashlights way brighter than the phone lights going off. 

Noah nudged Audrey. “Do we try to get to them, try to save Tim, or what?”

“I don’t have any service, so I’m guessing the doors are also locked this time.”

“You hope for a fluke and it turns out to be a test run.”

“Let’s head over to the booths and meet up,” Audrey said decisively, so that’s where they moved, startling a bunch of people, including at least three from their English class.

The next part happened very fast -- an arm was slung over Noah’s shoulder, bracketing his throat. A voice (not The Voice, but familiar and deep) said, “Caught you.” A sharp point jammed into his back.

Noah didn’t have time to say “what the fuck,” before Audrey’s training kicked in and he grabbed the mystery arm with both hands, reaching back for a grip on the shoulder. He yanked and bent and prayed momentum worked the same on six foot tall guys as it did to Audrey.

Audrey yelled his name the same time the guy landed on his back on the dancefloor with a loud thump, the wind completely knocked out of him. Three beams of light met on his face and he squinted through the red leather mask, looking stunned.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to do this,” Audrey said.

Noah grinned. “Are we finally, truly meddling kids?” 

“God, I hope so,” she said, and pulled the mask up.

“Steve. Predictable.” Brooke sounded extremely disappointed.

“Oh thank god, I couldn’t handle having some kind of podcast-specific stalker,” Noah said. “Also, what the hell man?”

“Look, I can explain--” Steve started, but he was interrupted with a crackle over the intercom system.

It was Malik, delivering the great news that the doors were finally unlocked. “We’re working on the lights, so be careful!”

“Let’s find a ladder,” Audrey said, “Tim’s probably still up there.”

A police siren rang outside.

-

Audrey took him out for ice cream a few days later, a mea culpa for two disastrous trips to the gay bar.

“Thanks for admitting that my trying to date is a tragedy,” Noah said as he joined her at a table in the shop, a heaping cone of raspberry-chocolate swirl in his hand.

“Hey, I’m sorry that we somehow managed to miss that Steve was trying to, uh...murder someone so you’d restart your podcast and date him, I guess?”

“I wish I could take you with me to Boston,” he said, instead of something reasonable like “no worries, it was a mistake anyone could have made.”

“Okay, abrupt subject change,” Audrey said, looking at her cup of rainbow sherbert. “What’s up?” 

“Who’s gonna get me out of my comfort zone like you do, Audrey? 

“I’ll be in California, not dead,” she quipped, but then her smile turned warm. “Noah, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Only because you taught me how to kick ass!”

“Yeah,” she said smugly, “that’s true. But I meant what I said -- I trust you to be able to take care of yourself.”

“I wish I had that kind of faith in myself,” he said.

“I mostly just fake it til it feels real, myself,” she said, and Noah...Noah could relate.

“Promise me you’ll come visit,” he said instead of anything worse.

“I promise. Promise me you’ll be back for holidays.”

“Pinky swear,” he said, holding out his hand, and they laughed as she hooked her finger into his.

“So, how’s the writing going?” Audrey asked between bites of ice cream.

Noah took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve got this idea about a haunted gay bar…”

**Author's Note:**

> \- The title is a riff on the film "The Gay Bed & Breakfast of Terror."  
> \- Don's Place is, of course, the gay leather bar from A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge  
> \- Robert Kirkman is the writer of the still-running Walking Dead comic
> 
> Have a spooky holidays!!


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